


A Balcony Away

by Abadog



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Apartment, Aziraphale Has Self-Esteem Issues (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Has Long Hair (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Romance, Self-Esteem Issues, Shy Aziraphale (Good Omens), Size Kink, balcony
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:22:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27047899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abadog/pseuds/Abadog
Summary: Aziraphale got to live in a new apartment, but the new neighbor that lives in front of it intrigues him in many ways...
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 32





	1. The new neighbour?

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, I wrote this for fun! Hope y'all enjoy :D

Aziraphale was very well accommodated with his new apartment. After a long discussion with his great friend and neighbor, a sweet and extremely gentle lady, playful with a much more sadistic side towards her more "erotic" work and her psychic hobbie, Mrs. Tracy finally convinces her friend to have his own apartment, after some plumbing problems that would be almost impossible to revert to the old and antique space above his bookstore. The gentleman quickly denied any help at first, saying he was perfectly capable of solving things without having much on his back to worry about.

  
Tracy recommended some apartments, not so big, but that could very well have space for shelves and storage for his precious books. Aziraphale found the concept of apartments very modern, extremely appealing for a place that would be smaller than a closet. He was always attracted to the simplest, oldest things, or as young people say today, "vintage". The search was extensive, because even if he was carrying 30 years of life, the weird search bar still gave problems to the poor guy on the computer of the past decade. But there was a place with several apartment blocks that the man found attractive, a little more spacious than it should have, within the budget (the money he always kept as a precaution) and a structure almost similar to the old buildings of Paris, in which brought to the blonde good memories when he traveled there.

The space had a medium balcony, the bars around were not bars themselves, but large glass plates (the only negative point in his opinion, since it did not match the style of the building itself), but the images gave a great impression that an outdoor space for reading chairs would be ideal if considered. The five floors blocks consisted of four apartments for each floor, two on each side, showing two connected balconies, only separated by a thick wall to make room for some kind of barbecue on the other side. Aziraphale was no masterchef cook, but maybe someday cooking would be ideal. The place was decided, after all.

  
______________________

It's been 1 week since he finished the move. 

There were boxes and boxes with books and personal belongings, but they were solved quickly with the help of the old friend. The furniture was already assembled, all in proper order before the moving truck arrived. The rooms were still messy, but in an organized way, the way the blonde liked and used to do in the old house. The living room and bedrooms had stacks of books, tea mugs scattered around the kitchen and even the bathroom, when he completely immersed himself in a book.

After his usual shift at the bookstore, he returned to his new home, now on the fifth floor, a few blocks from his work. The stairs were somewhat exhausting because it was the top floor, but the “concierge” (as Azira says so) had already warned him that the elevator would be repaired that same week.

  
He entered the narrow corridor and sighed, looking into the living room and thinking briefly about what he could order for dinner. He decided to eat Japanese food from his favorite restaurant, and, after a good meal, a little cocoa to appease his already peaceful soul. He needed to start some translations of some old parliaments’ copies and the night had come with a sunset tinged with various shades of pink, really bringing the peace he had never seen before.

  
He sat down at his old desk, now set up in one of the two rooms, to start with himself.   
The space became a mini library with a desk, while the other room was composed of the essentials for a single room with a king size bed. His desk was in front of the new window, which, along with the balcony, faced another identical apartment block outside his own.

  
A few slow, well-liked sips of tea were taken, notes being written on various papers spread across the desk. 

  
Amazingly, silence was present. The man thought that being apartments, annoyances with neighbors due to noise would be common. The doorman kindly commented on each face of the block he had just moved in, detailing and consequently gossiping the residents as if it were a daily custom.   
Zira was not a gossip person, quite the contrary, but just knowing that an elderly couple and two single adults alienated by the intense work lived on his block has already given him extreme relief. They were too old to worry about noise, and the rest of them had a busy day to remember to make any vibrations.

  
__________

He got a good deal of the old manuscript done. 

He sighed contentedly and reached for the mug, until he heard light music playing from somewhere.   
He looked ahead and when he opened the window, the muffled tone of the "bebop" (Aziraphale believed it was) became something louder, clearly coming from the apartment in front of his. It was not annoying or loud enough to go crazy about it, but the owner of the sound left it loud enough to reverberate a little in those who lived in front of him.

  
When he realized where he was coming from, he closed the window, happier with the muffled sound than when it was open. His mind went and came thinking about which room the speaker could be in, if the man or woman (or neither) were busy and liked to play music from time to time. The other's balcony was full of plants around, very well looked after, after Zira gave a few peeks here and there through the week. Small glances at the window in front of him were given, but when the music changed and a door was slammed without consideration, Aziraphale's eyes opened considerably.

  
Of course, the room had curtains, the most basic means of privacy, but because of the lighting, a stunning silhouette could be formed if it got close enough.

  
The silhouette showed someone with wavy hair up to the shoulder, a thin body (perhaps a little beyond “thin”), well marking the muscles in the belly and a breathless hip. The figure was on his side, clearly busy on the cellphone in his hands, but _oh my God_ , his hip wasn't the only thing that caught the blonde's attention.

  
Aziraphale easily assumed that the man was naked, because when he saw the individual from the side, it was possible to perceive the low parts and the great contrast that certain parts of the body made, especially when the person separated his legs a little.

  
Something started bubbling up inside the librarian. 

With open and considerably dry lips, his attention became completely attached to the silhouette. The man raised one arm to scratch the back of his neck, leaned over to see something from somewhere (he supposed it was something on a desk), a slight lift he did when he leaned over, showing the curve of the man's buttocks in the most divine way possible.

  
Aziraphale must be crazy. It was absolutely improper to pry into other people's lives, much more to notice how the shape of that long, still flaccid member swayed a little every time he stood on his side and ---

  
He banged his fists on the table to try to relax, hands going to his mouth, indignant. It is not correct, it is not polite to feel certain **THINGS** when you see the naked neighbor in your own space, in your own privacy through the window. He should stop, go to the kitchen to make another cup of cocoa to distract himself, but... What if he missed something important?

  
_"Important??"_ He asked himself in his mind.

Aziraphale looked quickly ahead again, seeing the curtain being pulled slightly and revealing the beauty behind it.

He was a well-defined man, oh put _WELL-DEFINED_ on it. Striking cheeks, chin that could cut something for being so angular, thin lips, hair with an incandescent shade of red, thin body (an interesting contrast if based on Aziraphale’s curves) stunning beauty with white skin, but have seen many sunny days and a member who made the blonde salivate for a few seconds. Just a few seconds.

  
He was still focused on the small screen in his hands, typing something without any interest, resting his free palm on the window. One of the legs rose slightly, giving greater contrast to the penis on display.

  
Aziraphale was baffled. He didn't move, he couldn't react correctly. His heart was racing a thousand beats per minute and... Is it his impression or was the room a little bit more... Hot? It must be the tea, right?

  
The stranger stops typing with one hand and looks straight ahead with the same bored look. He looks quickly at the observer, returning to his cell phone and then looking forward again, with more surprise, better understanding the situation. 

  
He must not have predicted that someone had moved in recently, thought the librarian.

  
Upon realizing that he was caught in the act, Aziraphale instantly felt his entire face burn. He did not know what to do, his gaze went everywhere, looking for answers and ways to escape the situation. Leaving the table and letting the neighbor see the tent that appeared in your pants is not an option, is it? Wait... Tent?

  
The blonde heard the music suddenly being interrupted and when looking again at the beautiful neighbor, he hoped that he would try to escape too, cover himself or be extremely embarrassed. What he did not expect, however, was for the other to give a seductive smirk, look at the viewer and send a kiss to him. The act was done while one hand traveled over the body itself, the provocative expression on display as well as everything else.

  
The blonde's face went extremely red, burning with shame, wondering what to do. Seeing that Aziraphale did not react so much besides being redder than a pepper, the redhead finally realizes the shame that has been through and closes his curtains. Aziraphale looks closely at the now distressed silhouette, placing both hands on his head and sending some audio to anyone on the cell phone. The body movements were very clear, the previous provocation became a clear expression of despair and shame.

Something in Aziraphale clicks out of the moment. He gets up abruptly and tries to take his mug, failing and letting the liquid fall down on a part of the manuscript. His embarrassed and attracted self transformed into one out of frustation.

  
\- OH GOOD LORD! THE MANUSCRIPTS!- He screamed, trying to save whatever was left by pulling and grabbing the half wet paper. 

Sod off the neighbor and his gorgeous body! He had a manuscript to save!

///////////////////  
//////////////////

Crowley was absolutely **desperate.**

Of course, he knew he was a stranger, with hobbies that differ from his cool and mysterious style, but he never imagined he would be caught doing his worst hobbie.

  
He’s used to always come home, lock the door and be completely naked. The justifications? He just liked the freedom it brought him, the exposure of his body and how it comforted him to be in his own space, without worry. He didn't need to care about the neighbors on the side because they would never see such beauty walking as God created him, especially those in the front block.

  
The two front apartments were always empty. For years, it has always been empty in the same way. Being on the top floor, the people on the bottom floors didn't care about it at all, after all they didn't need to know. The old couple was from downstairs too, so the two spaces that could see everything he offered didn't worry him at all. He didn't even want to close the curtains because if no one is watching, what is the reason?

Crowley has very few friends, mostly Anathema that he met on the first day at the office with her boyfriend. They rarely visited for that same strange reason, but they were always there when Crowley needed support. Family was no concern at all for not having more contact with them. What was left was the failed and sulky love life.

  
Even though he had partners, most were quick things, nothing that lasted and just for pleasure. When Crowley mentioned something else or an occasion other than sex, they hesitated, they saw no purpose if it would be just as fast. Frustrated and completely full of these endless sexual adventures, Anthony J. Crowley left love aside too, living alone and enjoying the free afternoons or evenings to really enjoy and get excited about his body at times.

  
He had just returned from work, already asking Alexa to play his favorite Playlist while he looked for the black robe, of the softest silk, in some corner of the room. Anathema sent several messages showing ridiculous photos of a prank made on one of the colleagues they hated so much. A bucket of water over the door! Classic, but honestly, Crowley would think of something better.

  
He opens the curtain relaxed, noticing a light coming from outside the window. Strange ... A light? He glanced and saw someone on the other side, returning to his cell phone. Wait.

  
Someone?!

When he looks ahead again, he comes across a man on the other block, looking him up and down, his face completely red, his mouth open and paralyzed.

  
Since when was the front apartment occupied?!?

  
The man himself was chubby, with an absurdly white (and probably very soft) skin if it weren't for the shame on his cheeks, snow-white hair, with the biggest and most fascinating blue eyes, faithfully looking at Crowley's anatomy. It was difficult to describe, but something about the spy caught his interest. He was gorgeous, wearing his light dress shirt and a ridiculous tartan bowtie. He was ridiculously old looking, like a librarian or someone from the early 1900s.

The two realized the situation and Anthony tried to think of something. He wanted to cover himself as soon as possible, but the shit was done. He knew it wouldn't do anything (his member was already out, after all, impossible to erase such a body from the mind), But a little plaything wouldn't be so bad, would it?

  
Taking a deep breath, he looked directly at the observer and blew a kiss from where he was, biting his lips and running his hand over his torso until he came close to the pelvis. When he finally realized how much of a pervert he was being and his neighbor's paralyzed face of surprise, Crowley panicked. He closed the curtains as quickly as he could, taking out his cell phone and sending messages, audios and screams, trying to call Anathema.

>   
>  _ANATHEMA_
> 
> _ANa_
> 
> _ANATHEMA, ANSWER ME_
> 
> _I SCREW ED U P_
> 
> _ANATHEMA HOL Y SH IT I JUST DID SOMETHING_
> 
> _I DIDN'T KNOW AND SOMETHING WEIRD HAPPENED_

  
A noise of a chair being dragged made him freeze right there, slowly peering and seeing that the man was almost running to who knows where, before looking at his desk and screaming something.

  
_\- OH GOOD LORD! THE MANUSCRIPTS!_

  
His cell phone vibrated with one of the Queen songs and he finally got out of the mess of the whole scene and answered it.

  
\- WHAT'S IT?! WHAT HAPPENED?!

\- I think I... Shocked someone ...?

\- But how can you shock someone if you're at home?

  
A huge silence occurs between them.

  
\- Oh. Understood. Wanna talk about it?


	2. Apologies

\- Um .. Got it. - her fingers roamed the curve of the personalized mug, a tired look was directed to the liquid inside the object. 

Anathema spent some time processing what had happened over the phone. It was already another day, the redhead decided to sleep for the rest of the night to try to calm his despair, but ended up confessing and saying everything, declaring that he only wanted her opinions the other day. She accepted as long as Crowley heard everything she had to say without complaining. 

The witch was now listening to her friend on speakerphone, trying to keep her eyes open while drinking coffee in her rustic kitchen. Crowley was pacing back and forth, completely naked, with all the curtains (already dusty from disuse) closed. He may well have realized his mistakes, but customs don't die anytime soon. 

\- What do I do??? - he messes up his hair, desperate. 

\- Well... He's the front neighbor, right? - Anathema drinks a little. Crowley interrupts his steps. 

\- As well? - she rolls her eyes. Newt walks past her, placing a gentle, affectionate kiss on the other's forehead. He already knew the whole story, but if he intruded, Crowley would surely shut him up on the spot. 

\- You can't show off like your home is a zoo now that you have a neighbor right by your window. - The other's voice showed how obvious the answer was. Crowley grumbles. 

\- Even so...! I didn’t know! How was I supposed to know that a fucking new neighbor arrived?! It's not like the doorman sends out warnings! - he opens the curtain of the balcony a little to spy on what he said, seeing no one and nothing interesting. 

\- Because nobody sends notice that new residents have arrived, Crowley. - he was sure she had rolled her eyes.   
\- If you made friends with others as a normal and DRESSED person, surely you would have heard gossip about this... This blond one over there. Did you say he had white hair? - Anathema was surprised by the appearance described since the redhead commented. 

Because he has white hair, he should be an old man, right? But he commented that he looked almost the same age as he... 

\- I should go see him and apologize, shouldn't I? But it's not like it's a big deal, is it? - Crowley wanted to escape the situation as soon as possible. His friend was very perceptive about this, unfortunately. 

\- It is not every day that you see your naked neighbor from your bedroom window. - Crowley grumbles again.   
\- You also said that he shouted something about...? 

\- Ah yes! He shouted something about manuscripts or something... - he sat down on his big, uncomfortable black sofa. 

Something is clear in Anathema's mind. She looks suddenly very awake. 

\- Crowley... Don't tell me he ruined the papers... Because of you...? 

Something on the redhead's back twitches, feeling chills pass over his skin. 

\- N-no ..! It's not possible, right? - he laughs weakly.   
\- It shouldn't be that important...! It wasn't my fault, he tripped and---- 

\- Crowley. - the interruption made all his words die in his mouth.   
\- Go. Apologize. It's Saturday, he must be there. Buy flowers or whatever, something to lessen the feeling of guilt a little and offer help. 

Crowley stops. He thinks for a moment and finally sighs. 

There's nothing to do, right? 

\- Yes ma'am. - He gets up, hanging up the call and going to the bedroom to choose what to wear. 

Meanwhile, Anathema finally lets out a stressed breath, one hand on her forehead, wondering about certain friendships she has managed to make. 

////////////////////////  
/////////////////////// 

Aziraphale was EXAUSTED. 

He spent the night trying as hard as possible to reduce the tea stains on the papers, trying to reestablish and reorganize the lost phrases and trying to maintain the original appearance of the written words without success. These were not customer orders, just materials that he managed the copies after going to an auction weeks ago. He didn't get much time to do it with all the chaos of the old apartment and the moving and the bookshop customers. 

Now a part of them was destroyed. 

Aziraphale just didn't cry because he had no strength left to do it. He urgently needed to sleep, but hopes have not yet died so easily. He wanted to try more other methods, but he knew that his efforts had already reached their limit. 

Yawning, he goes to the kitchen, contemplating about his balcony without thinking, finally looking at the balcony in front. Anger and frustration bubbled up inside him, but what for? Why would anyone care what happened to a mere bookstore owner? He did look embarrassed, yes, but not for that reason. 

His first intuition was to get the kettle to make more tea, but after the incident, Aziraphale seemed much more insecure and aware of how he handles his tea sessions. 

He ignores it, shaking his shoulders. 

\- Ah, I'll drink it in the kitchen this time. - he really needed to relax. 

He spent the night and the morning trying and trying. He'll have more peace when he can order lunch after a warm cup.  
______________________

  
As soon as he brings the drink to his lips, the bell rings, and a few large drops escape from the cup and fall with great fervor on his shoes. 

He wanted to maintain control even on his own, but still let out a groan of frustration. 

Aziraphale goes to the door after depositing the glass on the counter next, immediately facing the height of his problems, looking around nervously, wearing a wine color blouse with two unbuttoned buttons, showing a part of the neck, with a black leather jacket and jeans of the same color that looked almost glued to the body. After the vision he had the night before, he couldn't deny the normal elevation his pants would have. Stilettos style shoes with a big heel, making him taller than he should be. He also wore sunglasses for some reason, with little parts on the side that blocked even more his eyes if someone tried to see them from the side. He was holding what looked like a bouquet of flowers. 

The blonde couldn't deny that he was absolutely beautiful. Even though he saw him in the most natural and human way possible, seeing him dressed also aroused his interest (which irritated him even more). He even felt a little aware of what he was wearing, just a messy white dress shirt, a bow tie, trousers that were even tousled and his hair completely messy compared to the long, combed red locks of the other's hair that looked like they had been sculpted and correctly aligned. 

The other seemed distracted after a few seconds since the door opened. As soon as he looked ahead, his eyebrows went up in a surprised expression, until he changed his gaze to his shoes. 

\- Er... Hi... - the hand that was not holding the flowers went to rub behind the neck, nervous.

-... Hello. - Aziraphale was as short as it was rude. 

\- I-I am the neighbor of the other block, the number--- 

\- I know, dear. - the tone is still cold, accompanied by a forced smile.   
\- What do you want coming here? - Zira noticed how desperate he was after the interruption. He probably memorized how he was going to introduce himself, the blonde thought. 

\- So ... I-I came to apologize for what happened yesterday. - their cheeks began to redden.   
\- It's a custom of mine that I do when I'm at home and I didn't know you had just moved in--- N-NOT THAT YOU'RE GUILTY! It's not your fault that you moved out of nowhere or something! - He rushed, waving his arms while the smaller avoided looking directly at the other.   
\- I noticed that you shouted something about manuscripts and I thought I had done some damage... So... If you need anything, I... I came to say that I am willing to help. 

Crowley puts the flowers between them, ashamed. It is a combination of several colors of the hyacinth flowers.

Aziraphale was a bit surprised, looking at the flowers with his mouth open. He didn't expect an apology like that, but at least the redhead's tone seemed sincere enough. He was embarrassed and looked guilty. 

After a while he finally stops being surprised and looks directly at him, a serious expression on his face to disguise the relief. 

\- L-look... I did have some damage on my papers, but unfortunately there is no way I can restore them more than I already tried the night to this evening. They are very old and important relics and I don't know what to do now. - he rubs his eyes sleepy, already knowing that he had dark circles there. 

The more and more he spoke, the more the one with the dark glasses shrank. 

\- I don't know if you are aware of how valuable they are and how much they are worth. - a more confident air hit the librarian. If he hadn't been so distracted, he wouldn't have dropped anything, much less spoiled his stuff. 

He hears the sound of paper being wrinkled. Crowley really didn't want it to be too expensive, who knew a bunch of yellow papers could be worth more than they should be? 

\- H-how much? 

Zira gently takes the bouquet. A dangerous smile fills your face. 

\- If I were to sell it to a collector or put it up for sale at an auction, probably... - he thought and made a thinking noise sarcastically.   
\- More than 100,000? They are copies, but still worth a lot.

The redhead's jaw dropped. He doesn't have all that money, does he?! He works for a business shit place next door for God's sake! Impossible to have this much money even if he doesn't eat for a year! 

\- I don't think flowers will solve the situation, but I appreciate the apology. The flowers gave more meaning to all this. - eyebrows got up again. Crowley changes the subject. 

\- Y-you know the language of flowers, then?? - "pure" curiosity appears on your face. Even wearing glasses, it was not difficult to know how he felt, being extremely expressive that way. Cute. 

\- I've read some books about it in my bookstore, yes. But that is beside the point. I still don't forgive that easily. - he rolls his eyes. The other flinches again. 

Like a lamp of ideas, he jumps while Aziraphale put the flowers in a vase, looking for something in his pockets. 

\- Oh! Er... You didn't have lunch, did you? - the blonde turns confused. Crowley is fiddling with his cell phone. 

\- Excuse me? No, I haven't had lunch yet. - is he really going to propose a day out for lunch? It won't solve anything right? 

\- Let's do it then! I take you out to eat and you give me more details about how you got the manuscripts and I try to contribute in some way. I don't have the money to pay you, but I want to help little by little. It will be like an agreement between us. - the redhead leans on the door trim, trying to look cooler, still looking for restaurants on his cell phone. 

\- Look, a "date to eat" won't change anything, but I appreciate that you want to help. Unfortunately I still have more things to do, so --- - even if a little interested, Zira shrugged, waving his hand to get this idea out of his head. 

\- I’LL PAY! - the exclamation scares the blonde. He looked more exasperated than ever.   
\- I’ll pay..! Please let me do at least something. 

Why was he so insistent on helping? 

\- Don't worry about it, it's my problem now. You are not going to buy me with food like that and you don't have much to do about it. 

Crowley remained restless, looking intently at the old-fashioned man. 

\- I refuse to leave until you accept. - he crosses his arms, sulking. Impossible! 

Aziraphale loses his temper. He steps hard on the floor. 

\- Good Lord, stop it ..! 

\- Come on, it's just lunch! You haven't eaten yet, have you? I'll take you anywhere! You won't even have to pay! You’ve never seen such opportunity! 

He's not wrong.

A big sigh comes from the blonde's lips. 

\- Fine! - The messy smile and the sparkle in his eyes gave a new face of hope to the neighbor. Very adorable, thought Zira. 

\- YES!! You are an angel!! - Zira clears his throat, a red tinge going to his cheeks. 

\- Any recommendations of places, sir....? 

Crowley gasps a little, processing the question. 

\- Crowley. Anthony J. Crowley, but I prefer the last name. No sir or anything, just Crowley. - the surprised expression again. 

\- Right. Nice to meet you, Crowley. - he felt the name on his lips and it didn't look so bad. 

He extends his hand, waiting for greetings. 

\- My name is A. Z. Fell, but I prefer the first name, Aziraphale. - The neighbor's hands are soft, they thought. 

\- Aziraphale? - a curious and familiar tone for the blonde appears. They already untie their hands. 

\- Religious family. I know, the name is quite strange, I’m afraid. - He fixes his bow tie, fixing his hair while looking for the apartment keys to lock the front door. 

\- I'm not criticizing, it fits you perfectly. Am I going to lunch with the famous guardian of the garden of Eden and the flaming sword, then? - Crowley jokes, a malicious smile forming. 

\- Do you know the story? - it was the first time that he didn't hear his name being mocked or criticized for being too difficult. Especially someone who had a little biblical knowledge about an angel that nobody talks about much.

\- College taught me a few things here and there. - shrugged.   
\- What's up? Which restaurant do you prefer to go to? I have my car parked here. - he swings the locomotion keys as confirmation. 

\- How about crepes? Something against? - Aziraphale looks proud, challenging. 

\- The choice is yours, it doesn't matter to me. 

\- So let's go. ______________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya like it!


End file.
